Simmer Down
by basicnsync
Summary: "Kensi will bounce back. We all know the risks. This is the path we've chosen." Was Sam really so callous, or was there something simmering behind those words? Tag to "The Queen's Gambit".


Cold. Cold-hearted. Unfeeling at the very least. What the hell? _Kensi will bounce back. We all know the risks. This is the path we've chosen._ Callen's ire simmered. Was this a normal reaction? Maybe he was abnormal himself, but Sam had shown more remorse over the misfortunes of strangers than he was showing for their own teammate. Good thing Nell or Hetty hadn't heard Sam. Good thing Deeks hadn't heard him. Kensi herself would be surprised, and…perplexed. Yeah, perplexed nailed it.

Unseen by either man, Deeks stood in the darkened hallway. He had been dealing with so many emotions since the helicopter crash that he thought one more would cause him to implode. Or explode. He just didn't have the capacity to dwell on it, process it, and compartmentalize it. He could hardly draw a full breath as it was.

He couldn't take his concentration off of Kensi for fear that being absent from his thoughts would slow her recovery. It was hard enough for him to muster any concentration for work, but knowing the lives of others hung in the balance of his actions and decisions anchored him in the moment.

Besides, Sam had been such a rock following the crash. He had shown concern for both Kensi and him, and had saved her life by stopping the blood flowing from her femoral artery. He'd recognized that Deeks was disoriented from a head wound and made him sit down. That was something.

On the carrier, after Kensi's broken femur and related arterial damage had been repaired, Sam was the voice of reason, telling Mary to go straight to L.A. rather than try and follow her to Landstuhl where her spinal and head injuries would be evaluated, knowing the procedure there would be swift and she would be stateside before Deeks could get there. That was caring, right?

Despite the fact that Marty decided he was not going to spend time dwelling on Sam's apparent lack of concern, he found himself doing just that. Maybe it was G's expression when Sam said the mission had been worth it. No one knew Sam better than G.

Marty's brief hesitation turned into several minutes of deep thought. He didn't even realize he had slid sown the wall to sit on the floor just outside of the bullpen until Eric appeared on the stairs. He scrambled up, hoping to seem casual when he felt anything but. Luckily, he remained unseen.

He heard Eric ask about Kensi, and Sam replied "Still unconscious as of last night." He didn't say she was in a coma. Not inaccurate, but wrong somehow. Maybe the tone or the brevity was wrong, like he was minimizing it. What the hell?

Still…Marty himself had honed the art of hiding his feelings through banter and antics his whole life. Not communicating directly and honestly was one of the reasons it took him so long to act on his passion for his partner. Maybe Sam had to do the same thing. Maybe he hid his real emotions behind the carefully controlled demeanor of a highly trained and skilled SEAL. The control was useful in a stressful situation, but surely now he could show some concern, right?

Deeks resolved that to get through the machinations of the current op with Nell as his partner, he would be all business. The feelings could resurface in the evening when he was alone by Kensi's side, wishing she could talk to him and hold his hand. It was true that they both knew tragedy could be one assignment away, but he always imagined it would be himself who was killed or critically injured. Kensi was too smart, too careful, too precise, too skilled, too…she was Kensi. Nights spent in a chair by her hospital bed trying to remember what her voice sounded like were not in the realm of possibilities until it happened.

How ironic was it that he had recently suggested they trade in their risky occupations for yoga and surfing instructors and raise babies in an idyllic world far removed from this? It was as if he realized how fleeting the good times could be, having spent far too short a span in the thick of them. But for it to be Kensi instead of him was all but unbearable. The extra notches he had to use in his belt testified to this.

He tried to be amiable to Nell. He tried to make sure procedures were followed and that he didn't overreact when he had a chance to take out his aggression on a suspect. If these things came to pass it was more by accident than design, because it felt like he was watching himself go through the day rather than being present.

Maybe he worked a little late because he was so scared to go to the hospital. He was scared of what might have happened during the day with him gone. More than that, he was scared of what might not have happened. She hadn't woke up. She hadn't moved. She hadn't spoken. She hadn't absolved him from the guilt he felt for walking away from the wreck.

Survivor's guilt, right? What if that's what was wrong with Sam? But Sam had been so helpful. He shouldn't feel that way at all. If anything, Kensi would have bled out, lost her leg, or been slowly squeezed to death by the weight of the chopper… Deeks shuddered to think of what he would be feeling now if it hadn't been for Sam. He could have been utterly without hope. He really needed to let Sam know how thankful he was for his coolness in the situation. He also needed to adopt a more positive outlook, not walking around like a zombie among these people to whom he owed so much. He could at least do that.

"Hey, G, do you know where Sam is?" he asked as they gathered their things to leave.

"Nah, he said he needed to get out of here a little early." Then he continued awkwardly, "Hey, Deeks, man, I hope you know how we all feel about Kensi. How we'd trade places with her in a heartbeat. We'd love to come and see her as soon as the doctors and you give us the word. Personally, I'd do anything I could for her, and I know Sam would too." His earnest expression conveyed his sincerity, and the last part of his remark conveyed his bewilderment over Sam's lack of concern.

"Yeah, man, I know you both would. It's, uh, it's hard. Hard to watch." He remembered his resolve. Be positive. "For now, that is. But when she comes out of…this…she'll be so feisty that I'm sure I'll have trouble keeping up." He tried a smile. Not so bad.

"And that would be different how?" teased Callen.

Marty decided to go straight to the hospital rather than stopping to get a bite first. His attempts at being positive made him feel that something good may happen this evening. As he rounded the corner whistling, he stopped several feet away from Kensi's room. Someone was sitting in his chair-Sam.

He approached quietly. He never stopped to consider this was eavesdropping, but he was sure Sam hadn't expected anyone to see him. Sam was holding Kensi's left hand, the hand the doctor had said might be paralyzed along with her left leg due to the impingement of the spinal cord. He was pretty sure he hadn't told anyone that news at work today. He didn't want to bring everyone down. It made him wonder if Sam knew.

He expected to be listening in on the pep talk to end all pep talks. He expected a Knute Rockne type motivational monologue, and felt his adrenaline rise in spite of his efforts to be calm. This would get Kensi going. She would respond to a military man giving her orders. Why hadn't he thought of this before?

But then, why was Sam so quiet? Leaning closer, Marty heard, "I just didn't know what else to try. The ground there is so hard, I never thought it would shift that much. It's all my fault, Kensi, so please don't punish Deeks by staying in this coma. Please don't punish the team by being paralyzed. If you come out of this, you can do anything you want to me. I know you won't blame me, but I blame myself." He lowered his head and rested it on Kensi's cold, still hand, wishing he could impart his warmth, feeling and movement to her.

"Sam?" said Deeks quietly from the doorway.

Sam spoke without turning. "It's my fault her spinal cord was injured. I'm so, so sorry." He turned bloodshot eyes in Marty's direction.

"Sam, it's not. It's not your fault. Rocket launcher—helicopter crash? Come on, man, you can't believe that. You saved her, Sam. She has a chance because you stopped the bleeding and immobilized her head and neck. _That's_ what you did. You saved her."

"You don't get it, Deeks. Her leg was probably broken in the crash, but she couldn't feel it because of all of the weight on her. But right up until we dug out from under her and everything shifted, she was moving. Both arms. No paralysis yet. We did that—no, _I_ did that when I suggested digging. This coma and anything that isn't right and perfect and as good as it was before is on me." Throughout Sam's speech, he seemed to deflate, so that when Deeks looked at the giant of a man, he seemed smaller.

"You don't get to do that, Sam. You don't get to take on full blame for this. I pulled her. I grabbed her arms over her head and I pulled her. That goes against First Aid 101 when you suspect a spinal injury. So we're in this together, big guy. We all did whatever we could to get her out. And she's alive. I'm not planning her funeral, and I still get to see her beautiful face," here his voice caught and he stopped to compose himself.

"But what if she's changed?" Sam despaired. "What if she isn't able to do the things she did before? How can I live with that?"

"We are all changed, Sam. No one can go through what we did and not come out changed. But at least she will have the chance to work through it. We'll all have the chance to help her through it if we need to. I couldn't have saved her by myself. Let it go, Buddy. Let the guilt go. I need you. She needs you."

Sam kissed Kensi's hand, then stood up and faced Deeks. "You are the best thing I never expected to happen to her and to this team." He put a hand on Deeks's shoulder, then walked down the dark, quiet hallway.


End file.
